Well, Crap
by Kleptomaniac Can Opener
Summary: Like everyone else, Jou knows that once you're dead, you're dead. That didn't quite work out for him... YAOI, SetoJou and possibly others
1. Prologue

Title: Well...Damn  
Author: Kleptomaniac Can Opener  
Rating: Currently PG-13, but knowing me that will get bumped up higher

Pairing(s): Seto/Jou, possibly others in the future  
Original Characters: None  
Status: Series  
Spoilers: Shouldn't be any.  I've only seen the American series, read a little manga and a whole bunch of fanfics  
Disclaimer: I own the computer this story is being written with.  That's it.  Nothing here, people.  Keep it moving.  
Summary: Like everyone else, Jou knows that once you're dead, then you're dead.  But that didn't quite work out for him...

This is something of a fusion with Highlander (no Highlander characters will be showing up).  If you don't know what that is, or you're not familiar with it, don't worry.  Jou isn't either so you can learn with him. ^^ You don't actually need to know about Highlander to read this, I'm just pointing it out so those who do know the series will understand I'm not claiming the idea. *points to disclaimer*

-_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_-

Live for today.

He's always thought that was pretty sound advice.  After all, you rarely, if ever, get a second chance at anything truly important.

That's why he breaks the rules.  
That's why he takes stupid chances.  
That's why he can go home every night.

But tonight...he really should have gone to someone else's.

Tonight...he died.

~*~*~*~

Well...Damn  
Prologue

~*~*~*~

He's rarely seen his father like this.  Drunk or otherwise.  
That's a good thing, by the way.

Usually his old man would yell, scream, curse, hit him a few times then pass out.  
Not too bad.  He's been in more violent situations.

Gang fights.  
Rabid dogs.  
Being strung up in an abandoned garage and jabbed with cattle prods.

But this...this takes the cake.  
The plate too.

Ever take the time to watch a storm?  To see how it churns and rages to the point that you think the world is going to end?  
Right now, his father is like that.

And the damn door is blocked off.

"Just calm down.  I'll get you another beer."  He can't even understand the man's response, not that he needs words to understand that he's seriously piss and it's going to be a very painful experience.

Funny.

He thought getting beat with a table would hurt more.  Or maybe he's just too numb to feel it properly.  
That's a decent enough blessing for such a shitty night.

Things are getting fuzzy...cold...

Really cold.

Should he be this cold?

***

His head hurts.

That's the first thing he notices.  
Then he notices he's currently freezing his ass off.

What the hell?

With pure will, he pries open coffee-colored eyes only to be met with nothing.  
Well, not precisely nothing.  But rather a whole bunch of dark.  
Darkness trapped in metal.  
A metal case shaped like a coffin.

Oh shit.

So he does the most logical thing.  
He screams.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 1

Waking up in the morgue has never been on his 'to do' list.  
And he's sure he would feel sorry for the mortician if he weren't busy being hysterical. 

But come on! He was trapped in a frosty metal box! Give him a break!  
He had a toe-tag for goodness sakes!

---

Well...Damn  
Chapter 1

---

The doctor clicks off his penlight. "I can't find anything physically wrong. You're in perfect health"  
"Seriously?"

He can't believe it! Last he checked he got beaten with a coffee table. He should have some bruises in the least.

Maybe that had been a nightmare?  
But then...how did he end up in the morgue?

"I'm setting you up an appointment with a friend of mine. She handles trauma cases"  
"Whoa! You're sendin' me to a shrink! I'm fine now! Really! See? No nutcases here"  
"There's no shame in seeing a psychologist. People naturally need someone to help them after such an experience"  
"Well I don't! I'm fine, dammit!"

The doctor sighs as he puts his penlight away. "I can't force you to go, but I do highly suggest it. Do you have a family doctor I can get in contact with"  
"Fraid not"  
"Then I'll write out a form to allow you to miss a few days of school. I want you get plenty of rest. Spend time with friends and family"  
"Yeah, yeah," Jou answers in quite the chipper voice. It's not often he has permission to miss school. His stomach grumbles, which causes the doctor to smile.  
"I'll get you something to eat. Snack machine okay"  
"Yup. Anything's good with me"  
"I'll be back in a few minutes."

Jou sighs once the man is gone. How does he get into these messes?

He looks around the room he's been in since the mortician was able to calm him down. It's just an ordinary side-office connected to the main room where they keep all the dead people.  
Hey, now he really can say, 'I see dead people!  
Man, his friends are never going to believe this one.

Jou kicks his legs and scratches himself underneath the itchy shirt he had been given to wear; it's hardly been a minute but he's already bored. He can't remember the last time he felt so full of energy...in fact, he feels good, better than he remembers ever feeling.  
Except the time he ate all that pocky in one go. The sugar crash had sucked though.

"GAH! I'm bored!" He pushes off the table and explores the small room; opening cabinets he has no right to look in, shuffling through desk drawers, and poking into bags. "Ooh, stress ball." He leans back without checking where he's going to lean first. His hand slips when he places it down to anchor himself.

"Ow!" The ball falls to the floor and rolls under the desk.

It's just a small cut really. Who knew that the corners of metal tables could be so sharp?  
He brings the finger up to suck on when...the cut disappears.

"What the...?"

He KNOWS it was there! There's still a drop of blood where the cut was!  
So where the hell did it go! It couldn't have just healed!

...right?

It's not possible, yet...he has to be sure.  
This is going to hurt.

With a quick decisive movement, he thrusts his arm down to be sliced open by the razor edge.

"Ahh! Stupid idea! Really stupid idea!" But before he can complain further the wound begins to knit itself together, the broken flesh mending right before his eyes. Only a thin blood trail is left behind.

"Well...damn."

-

"Jounouchi, I'm afraid I have some bad news"  
"What...?" The blond sits up straight and braces himself for anything the doctor can say. He's a big boy. He can handle it.  
"Your father was arrested last night."

...is that all?

Jou rolls his eyes and slouches in his seat again. "That's nothing new. Don't worry, I can get home fine on my own"  
"We can't send you home without a parent or guardian." The man seems a little distraught at the teen's reaction.  
"Geez, are you people always this damn difficult? Look," he snatches a sheet of paper and a pen from the desk and scribbles down a phone number, "call this number and ask for Muto-jiisan. He's something of a guardian for me. He'll be more than happy to pick me up."

After what feels like an hour worth of persuasion, but in reality was no more than a few minutes, the doctor leaves to give the number to the proper people.

Jou lifts his arm, staring at where he knew the nasty cut should be. "What the hell is happening to me?" He shudders when a weird -something- tinkles in the back of his head, an almost pull at the base of his skull. "What the fuck now?" He scratches the troublesome spot, thinking it's the fault of the used clothing he had been given. Something about his own being 'unusable'. He doesn't doubt a word of it.

Unknown to the blond, just outside the morgue, someone narrows their eyes. It's been a long time since they've felt the touch of another of their kind.

Trying to figure out last night and the recent developments is proving to be a headache the size of Mount Fuji. The most obvious is that his dad hasn't been caught for his 'death' just yet. The old man must have tossed him in some alley then got caught for drunk driving. How he managed not to have any blood on him, which no doubt would have led to an immediate investigation and suspected murder charges, was something he could look into once he got home. More than likely, the man had wrapped him in the cheap plastic tablecloth that usually lies on the living room table. Guess his buzz kinda wore off when he noticed his son was 'dead' and it prompted him into reasonable action.  
Speaking of blood, he just knows it's going to suck trying to answer any questions about the state of his clothes when he doesn't have a scratch on him. Like hell if Jou is going to show them what happens when he gets a cut. He would be shipped to a laboratory faster than he can say Red-Eyes Black Dragon!

And what is up with this healing thing? Jou knows for a fact he couldn't do it before. He has the scars to prove it.  
And the 'pull' on the back of his head is getting REALLY annoying.

The door swings open. Jou's eyes brighten. "Jiisan"  
"Sorry, kid," answers a deep voice. "I'm Detective Burakii. I have a few questions for you"  
Ooh, yeah. He saw this coming.

The man who steps into the office looks young for a detective. Jou has always imagined a detective would have beginning lines of crow's feet around the eyes and maybe his hair would be graying at the temples, but this guy can't be out of his twenties yet. Black hair is cut to regulation length, he's clean-  
shaven, and his uniform is properly creased.  
Jou hates him already.

"Your preliminary report is very interesting, Jounouchi-san. On site, you had several broken ribs, a broken neck, and a fractured skull. And let's not forget that your clothes are saturated in blood"  
"Yeah, well, I guess some crackpot messed up their diagnoses. Cause um, duh. Healthy and kickin"  
"And how do you explain the blood"  
"No clue," Jou answers a little too quickly.

"BURAKII!" The doctor bursts into the room, looking haggard. "I said not to come in here"  
"Don't blow a blood vessel. We were only talking. Right, kid"  
"Whatever," snorts Jou.

Suddenly, a small form blurs pass the doctor and detective to bowl into the blond. "Jou-kun"  
"Yugi!" The two laugh and hug.  
"Are you alright? We were frantic when we got the call"  
"I'm good, buddy."

"Yugi, how many times must I tell you these old bones can't keep up anymore?" Sugoroku Muto huffs and puffs into the crowded room.  
"Are you the boy's guardian"  
"And you are?" Sugoroku's mustache bristles at the man. He can take a guess as to why he's here.  
"Detective Burakii"  
"How dare you? He's just been through a very traumatic experience! Last thing he needs is you asking questions! The very nerve!" The elder Muto begins herding his charges out the door. "Come, boys"  
"Don't leave town, sir," Burakii calls out after them.

Sugoroku scowls the entire way to his old car. "This is why I can't stand cops"  
"It could have been worse, jiichan," Yugi says in an attempt to smooth his grandfather's ruffled feathers. "Jou-kun could be seriously hurt"  
"Yes, you're right. Thank goodness you're just fine, Jou"  
"Yeah, fine..." Jou says softly.

Hidden in the shadows of the building, a forth person watches the trio climb into the car before leaving. "Interesting."

---

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:  
For those who don't read the update on my bio, I am going to stop posting on here soon. I'm tired of their bullshit. In the future, you may keep up with my fics on my Fanfic Journal. You can find the link under homepage or look up utensil (underscore) drawer on livejournal.

Thank you,  
Kleptomaniac Can Opener


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